Emotion Drunk
by MelodiousSchemer
Summary: Do you feel misery? Hurt? Perhaps insignificant? Do you feel like you’re about to crack? As if you’re going insane until you can’t feel anything anymore?” Zemyx. Rated for language and general sexualness.


There was no life left in the harsh white walls, no more meaning left in them for me. This place is huge; I spent hours down the halls that looked all the same. Devoid of any activity, devoid of any …real warmth and real taste. It was all fake and hardly a sample of flavor on my tongue. Weightless, motionless, still. Not dead just utterly hollow.

I stopped at one door. This sparked interest inside of me. This door masqueraded as every other meaningless door down these meaningless halls. But from under its mask it had set something going inside of me, the orange embers of feeling threatening to burst into an emotion in my chest. That pleased me. Doors could make me feel happy. Wonderful.

I'd been chasing my own ghostly boots around the floor half the day so it was only in due time that I'd found myself here. I feel no real pull for this place, but now that I was here I felt a need for it.

A light knock, he doesn't need anymore. A throaty grunt offers acceptance. I had been kind and waited for it but I think I would've ignored him if he'd turned me away.

His legs were collapsed over his bed, his upper body straight, shoulders spread out like a proud eagle splaying its wings to the world. A very thoughtful arm was placed along the bottom of a milk sill, his fingers dancing along the wood, trying to make me aware of his slender digits which he knew I once adored. He hadn't failed to notice how the moonlight strikes black leather beautifully and had turned his chest into the light of the filtering window accordingly.

His boots were no where to be seen by my eyes, he's too clever to leave them on, he's more than aware that the sight of his curled toes teases the corners of my mouth into a smile. His hair had been thoroughly cleaned, turning it feather soft under the moon. I knew of it. The feel of the satin threads slipping almost weightlessly through my fingers, warm at his skull then sliding out into a cool river of tresses. I hadn't even realized he'd picked out the certain love I had for his hair under all the other affinities of mine but he'd worked it into his godlike image so he must have noticed.

He strived to leave me unsatisfied in the end. He couldn't possibly give me things that I'd feel pleased enough to leave with. He tilted his neck ever so slightly back, shielding his eye under the delicate curtain of hairs. A bit further back and his tresses would fall away from his face, but any further forwards and they'd leave a window for me to spot his eye through.

He remained silent, refusing to look or speak to me. I had a twist of annoyance whenever he ignored me, but there he sat, forcing me to make the first move. A delicate balance of pleasure and pain. I had to tip the golden scales of power he held over me or I would be leaving in a shriveled ball of confusion and dissatisfaction.

"Zexion."  
"Demyx." He said quietly. Dangerously. I denied the shiver in my spine to take control of my body. The tide of Goosebumps I couldn't suppress.

"How…have you been?" An easy question, though when I closed the door everything was sealed under an ocean of seriousness. I had admitted I didn't want anyone else to hear.

"Lost, with that sense of…"  
"Of what?" He had forced me to ask but this time he rewarded my obedience. His head fell in my direction, looking me up and down with his visible eye with no real reason. It was like a small flame that had burrowed deep into a melting candle of midnight blue, it flickered with something, disturbance, interest, malice. And although something had moved nothing had changed, shadows danced and light seethed for a single second but then the flame returned to its normal, slow burn.

"Do not worry Demyx. You needn't worry about me anymore. The ties we broke don't bind our minds together. We don't need to know everything about each other."  
"You never told me anything anyway."  
"True… But then what did I tell anyone else? You knew the most….you."  
That word bit all the way down my throat. It made me feel special. I hated it.

I stepped forwards as he turned back to his moon watching, his skin turning from thick cream to watery milk under the light. Did he know the moon made him look deathly ill while still keeping his eyes desirably alive with liquid silver? Probably.

My knee touched something as I advanced. A wooden draw it seemed, that had been carelessly left ajar from its place. Carelessly? No. Carefully left ajar. He kept a blade in there with a streamlined handle carved so it sat nice and heavy in the back of your palm. Or so he told me. I know it's kept in there. He knows I know it's kept in there.

"I smell concern."

"You always told me we can't feel a thing." I said, letting him taste my small triumph.  
"I never clarified what kind of concern. Fake concern, but you're trying nonetheless."  
"Where?"

I coaxed another glace from him, his one a lot more hollow then that last. "Whatever do you mean?"  
I suspected he was playing the fool. "Can't you smell it out? You know what I mean." My voice was poisoned with a strain of danger. It pleased me.

I hooked a finger around the wooden lip of the draw and slid it out a fraction further. A small thread of moonlight caught the silver of the handle, propped up along the side of the draw beside a few books. "Where?" I growled a second time.

"The knife is in there."  
"I know that. I can see that."  
"You're implying as to where I've used it on my body?" The eyebrow I could see arched upwards, like a small stream curving above an intense blue ocean.

Zexion was too clever to sacrifice hot days of rolled up sleeves and gloveless wrists. He inflicted his pain in places he knew only I would ever see. His torture, while self inflicted was only, truly meant to damage one person. Me.

"Yes I am."  
"What makes you think I've done such things?"

He'd annoyed me enough already. If he was going to lie in my face then he can go fuck himself.

I turned to leave but I was suddenly in the way of Zexion, standing with his arms crossed, lips tight. He was using his illusions on me. I stared at the copy of Zexion, not knowing what to feel. The clone raised its arm and pointed to the foot of the bed. "Sit."

"No…" I bowed my head, shielding my eyes from the illusion before me. Fake fingers touched my cheek as bare and weightless as your own hair falling against your face. I flinched, a slight uneasy tense of muscles. My cheek filled the palm as it gently cupped against my skin. I moved away, not letting myself get lost in the unreal warmth. The clones' fingers didn't let me slip away. They dug into my face, gripping the bones of my jaw through my flesh. I looked back to its face and I was suddenly engulfed in the dead yellow fire of Xemnas's eyes. "Sit." The now Xemnas clone ordered.

I finally nodded, feeling too weak to be on my own. The illusion melted into thick wafts of coloured smoke that dissipated into the air, leaving a distinct smell against my skin. I knew that smell.  
Take a rose petal, fresh and full then close it in an old book for a few days. Upon opening the book you'll find that same smell, pressed into the pages where the petal was placed. The smell of saccharine plant and grainy, dusty pages. The sent of Zexion. The master of detecting people with only smell had to have a grand sent, all his own.

I cooled off sitting on the end of Zexion's bed. I pressed my large hands against my neck, forming thin sheets of water against my skin. The cool layer of water rolled over my pores and incased my thick, pulsating veins in its soothing coldness. I wasn't overheated as such, it was just very relaxing.

"Do you think you're special? The way you lead me on and mess with me? You're not special. And just because it took me forever to figure it out doesn't mean you ever were." I carried on, low and dangerous. "You've spoiled yourself. You're all talk. Talk and action and set up little scenes in your head with no purpose. I'd hate to think what you were like with a heart because if you ever came across one _real_ feeling of misery, one _real_ emotion of hurt or insignificance you'd crack. You'd go insane until you could feel anything anymore."

I lowered my hands to my lap then unexpectedly I pounded a fist into the thick duvet, making a dull and unsatisfying thud.

Those slender, loving fingers slid over my clenched hand. Damn it.  
"Demyx… Do you feel misery? Hurt? Perhaps insignificant? Do you feel like you're about to crack? As if you're going insane until you can't feel anything anymore?"  
So maybe some of my steamed venting had been a bit more self expressive than I thought. So what?  
"Yes…"  
"I envy you." Then he laughed a bit, young and full. "No I don't. I can't. I can't envy you no matter how much I try. Your emotion is so raw…fresh. Almost real and touchable. It's addictive, basking in the radiance of it all. I could try all my life to define myself from the other soulless bodies that shift through this castle. And I'd never come close."

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sick of this talk. Do you know how much I get this lame emotion talk?"

"Roxas gets it too."

"I'm tired of the talk and of your mind games and your self harm and your illusions."

Zexion's hand withdrew from mine, like the jaw of a venus flytrap easing back after trying to devour a fly. "Then why are you here?"

"Because …"

"You miss things too?"

I wasn't going to lie. Not like him. So I nodded.

I couldn't see Zexion's smile but I knew it was there, the taste on the air had changed. His smaller body moved to sit in front of mine, watching my face. Damn. If he did that it made everything so much more sincere, so much more real. So much harder. I looked up into his beauty. "Your… seeing both your eyes… though I like your hair…and your little toes…

My blood had been thickening as I spoke, curdling in my veins, making every beat of my flesh heart a deep pound. The shift of my blood was almost painful. Breathing was lost in my throat; his overpowering stare excited my body and confused my head.

"Do you miss the sex?"

Trust Zexion. The skin of my cheeks burned from a fire that sent up thick smoke and clouded my brain of all thought. He touched my cheek like his illusion had and with equal feather softness, like the barest flit of a fish's tail as it darts past you leg. I flinched just as I had the first time.

Great. "I didn't spend my time with you for sex."

"That does not mean you can't miss it."

"You came first. The sex was…a bonus."

He smiled, quick and flashy at me as I tried to retain some composure. I coughed and gasped when I swallowed some of my own saliva down the wrong way. Zexion makes my body stop working as well as it should.

"Is that what I was for then?" I asked.

Some of his composure died on me then. "No Demyx. Although once you stopped coming to see me there was a definite gap I had to fill. Some of that hole I couldn't get back…while some other parts I could."

"Who?"

"Can you think of no one?"

"Stop it Zexion. I didn't come here to play seduce the Demyx in the moonlight or guess where I cut myself and I definitely didn't come to play guess who I rooted while you weren't here."

He sighed, empty and miserable. "You truly are sick of how I treat you."

"Yes. Now who?" I threatened. It felt good to threaten Zexion. And also wrong at the same time.

"Someone powerful in emotional memories just like you, you can feel them from across the room…almost undetectable from real ones…"

"Fuck Zexion, we've gone from blind guessing games to twenty questions. Why do you have to..." And then I knew. It was obvious. "Roxas."

"We all take from his emotions in one way or another do we not? Teasing him, encouraging him, befriending him-"

"And fucking him?… Axel's going to kill you."

"He said the same thing about you."

"I don't want to kill you." It sounded too nice. And Zexion's triumph spread across his cheeks."I don't associate myself with you anymore, I don't care who you sleep with."

"You don't mean that."

"No, you just wish I didn't mean it." I spat, venomous and hateful in his face. Perfect.

"I know you Demyx. You get very attached to things. It's no different with people. But I wish this wasn't the case. I need you to move on."

"Then why bother starting anything in the first place if you want it so badly to end!" I shook, anger rumbling through my body as thunder does through the sky.

"It has ended but not in your mind. I stopped us because what we had was unhealthy. We both know that. It poisoned us both from the inside. We already have fake emotions, a fake relationship as well would only serve to drive us to insanity, look what it's done to you." He spoke, still so calmly but with a firm edge as he swiped a tear off my cheek with a single finger. When had that gotten there? "Nobodies are so drawn to the emotions that we don't have. I fed off yours because they were potent, not as watered down as everyone else's. As my own. That is not the recipe for satisfaction, only the catalyst for a leech to human situation."

"But…" I looked around helplessly as my mind clawed the surface of Zexion's face for an argument against him. But how can you beat Zexion in logic? There is none finer. So why was I looking for an excuse? A reason he was flawed, proof that what we had had was pure when it was so clear that it wasn't. Because a lot of me still believed in it anyway, even if it did kick off with sick intentions. I didn't want to be wrong, I didn't want to of felt all that for nothing. "So what? You cared enough about me to end it before I got hurt"

"I sought to end it before I got caught up. I couldn't become dependant on you like a kind of addict."

Shit he was right. Again. There wasn't anything noble and true in our relationship. Not in the start, middle or now in the end. He'd broken himself off not to shield me, but to better himself. But then…

"Why Roxas? I thought you wanted to stop this emotion sucking shit. Or did you have a break in your resolution? Are you having trouble kicking the habit?" I sneered.

"That was an experiment." He defended.

"What kind of sick experiment was that?" I scoffed. "How many seconds does it take to undo a boys pants? Does a Keybearers dick glow in the dark?"

Zexion's face went tight in a vein attempt to contain himself before he opened up to a bright pearl of laughter that swept up warmly from his stomach. "Oh Demyx. What's happened to you? Where is that bashful boy who couldn't even curse without going red?" A smile had stained his full lips from his laughter.

"You fucked him up." I hissed. He made me feel like an idiot. A child.

He stopped then, face locking back to its observant yet fleeting glare. "I won't deny that."

He looked at me levelly, no triumph or glee. But there wasn't any sadness or guilt ether. "You've probably fucked up Roxas too. Why did you do that?"

"Swearing really doesn't suit you but…Are you angry for Roxas's sake or your own?"

"Stop avoiding the question!"

I was ready to get up and leave and he could see that. I shifted to move away but he clasped his fingers into my shoulders, holding me down. I reacted violently, like a startled animal being captured. I threw my hand up to slap him hard against the face but he caught my fingers right before his pillow soft cheek. He looked at me, unable to throw the surprise from his blue night eyes. "You would harm me? Something I wouldn't do to you." He said accusingly.

Fuck him. I wasn't in the wrong here. "That's because I haven't messed around with you. If you felt like I did then you'd be willing to hurt me. Soon Roxas will be the same."

"I don't plan to start anything with him."

He chose to ignore the first part of what I'd said. I hoped it was because he was too scared to face it. "But you already have!" I shouted.

The hand that held my fingers from his cold cheek gripped more tightly and then pressed my hand to his face. "If I'm not willing to have anything with you, then why would I with that boy?" He asked as he rubbed my fingers along his own jaw.  
"I don't know… His emotions are more real?"  
"This much is true." He admitted, taking his hands away to let my palm roam freely over him. Screw that, I wasn't going to do it willingly. I took my hand away.

He combed his hair through his fingers, taking the mass of it away from his eyes and guiding it behind his ear. It fell in glossy tongues against his pale neck, the colour of each strand was rare and unnatural. It was the shade of a lone blue lilac flower under a deathly sheet of frost. Such flowers couldn't grow in the winter so by no natural means could this be seen. But it still looked good on him. I couldn't think of anything that would look bad.

And when both eyes graced my sight, both attentive on me, deep and blue like a frozen lake with cracks of icy colours around each pupil.

"W-what are you trying to do?"

He considered me but ignored my words. He came to my front, splaying a small hand against my stomach and the other stopped at my neckline. I winced as the cold leather bit my warm flesh.

"Is this what you did to Roxas?"

"That boy…" He started coldly. "I needed to see if it was truly your emotion I was drawn to. If so then surely he'd feel the same, ten fold better in fact with his power."

"Was it?"

He remained silent, instead shifting to breathe in my ear, hot and consuming, making the rest of my cold body shiver. He pressed his lips over my ear and I could feel his smile.

"Get off of me." I said calmly. I couldn't order him or shout because I felt I was going to snap and breakdown in his arms if I did. Then he'd definitely have his way.

He lathed my lobe with his tongue. I pulled my head away but he nipped my soft flesh, not taking repudiate too well. He darted a quick hand under my cloak and I flinched to pull back but the smooth leather of his glove started stroking the small of my back in hypnotic circles. It calmed me down, soothed me. It always did. It as a technique Zexion employed whenever I was in a fuss. Panicked, scared, sad, lonely, or angry. All of the emotions He would had been relishing in. But then why would Zexion try to lower me from my emotional high if it has such a pleasing effect for him? Goodwill? Seeing my pain before his own pleasure? Surely not. There was nothing good in what we'd had, nothing honorable.

But I was too afraid to ask if this was the truth. Afraid of another reason why he didn't care about me. I looked down into my own lap, thinking I should probably resist him. Maybe I could pretend for tonight. Pretend that we were two school boys stupidly in love under a tree on a sweltering hot day just passing the time until we could watch the sunset together. We didn't know anything more painful then homework, no annoyance past tidying our rooms. We didn't know what 'fag' meant and we didn't know that when we grew up we couldn't get married to each other .The cicadas were clicking endlessly in the heat but we were lost to their noises, hearing only each others comforting whispers and delicate sighs into one another mouths… Not trapped in this cold castle in a mixed up war between Sora, the Heartless and ourselves.

Zexion mistook my long pause of thought for submission and started tugging at the tongue of my zip, the silver teeth un-meshing and leaving the black cloak to fall away. I looked up again, seeing a flash of pale skin, contrasted against black. Zexion had unzipped his own coat as well down to his stomach. I had to draw the line somewhere before he claimed my body. A dripping mess of a body in his powerful jaws.

"What makes you think you can just start undressing me?"

"Do your eyes not want it?"

"No. They most certainly do not."

"You came to me because you were suffering."

"This isn't helping you asshole."

"You ma-"

"Shut up!" I yelled, throwing my closed fist into his chest and throwing his smaller body away from mine. "I'm leaving." I rumbled in my throat. I was halfway to the door with still no response from him. I turned my head back a little to see what he was feeling on his face but my attention fell like a weight to his hand.

"Blood?" I asked him, frowning deeply at his smeared fingers.

He reached under his cloak and came away with more blood where I had punched him.

Fuck him. I moved back. How could he be bleeding? I hadn't punched through his skin. A flailing hand flung out and sunk into my sleeve, pulling me back down onto the bed. "Z-Zexion?"

"Please, do not feel guilty Demyx. It's not your fault." His face tried a flat look but pain tugged at the corner of his lips.

"What is it?"

"You are worried?"

"Yes."

I reached out to pull the material away to inspect the damage on his chest. Zexion defended it for a second, meeting me in a glare hot enough to set ice on fire. Then slowly he dropped his hands and I uncovered his skin.

I gasped. Above his left breast red lines were carved into the white skin like blood in snow. A half circle was sliced into him with blood gathering at the bottom of it. A modest amount of red seeped from a wound in the center of the half circle. Zexion peeled back his tight glove and swiped his crimson life away from the center wound, revealing that it was in fact a small series of cuts that formed…IX. The roman numerals for 9. I blinked.

"When I was with Roxas…" He suddenly started. "I don't know if his emotion was any better then yours. I couldn't focus on any of the emotion he was putting out. I was too distracted Demyx."

I touched my number very lightly, not wanting to hurt him further.  
"D-distracted?"

"It felt wrong. It wasn't…you. The thought of you threw me off totally."

I saw the half circle was in fact a letter. It was a D. "So… our relationship has some good in it? There is some caring?"

"I thought there was none, only greed. But if the mere thought of you put me off emotional power as strong as Roxas's then I must care for more something more than your emotion."

My eyes were locked hard onto his. The air was still and I didn't realized I'd stopped breathing until my head went light and my vision started blurring like paint bleeding into water. "Show me that you care." I said.

For all the knives of ridicule he'd dragged me through and all the anger I'd endured. For all the days on the end of his string and twisted games that drove me insane there was still enough there in his eyes for me want to try again. Maybe it was because I'm loyal to the point of foolishness. Trusting to the point of self hurt. But if that's what kept me bound to Zexion in the mess of sultry skin and licentious contact that was soon to follow then I was glad of it.

He showed me that he cared. In his lips. He smiled into every second that he kissed me. His caring showed in that hand that circled alleviate laps on my lower back. He giggled like that school boy under the tree with me. Laughing at a leaf that had astray landed in my hair or at my blushing cheeks. Innocent, playful and unsuspecting.

Imperfectly perfect and completely whole.

And when all was quiet he staved off his own sleep to watch me in my slumber, a hand keeping my face against his chest next to the scabbing marks over his flesh heart. Maybe when we got our emotion hearts we'd go and find that tree and spend every sunny afternoon sheltered in its shade.

Whatever world came after this there would always be a place for beings like us as long as we were willing to dig through all the petty problems and insignificant flaws in each other to find it.


End file.
